Take My Hand
by sesshomaru-sama68
Summary: When a mysterious young woman and her two children seek refuge with Erik, how will he help them when he is so lost himself? When danger seeks them out, will he prove himself at last? Erik/OC
1. Prologue

When a mysterious young woman and her two children seek refuge with Erik, how will he help them when he is so lost himself? When danger seeks them out, will he prove himself at last?

**~Take My Hand~**

Main Characters:

Erik – mid '40s

Angelique (ahn-ja-LEEK) – around 30

Colette – (ko-LET) 12

Henri - (ahn-REE)9

Setting: 1874, Northeastern France

**Prologue **

Pain. So much main. Deep and penetrating, but cold. So cold. He could feel it even in his bones. Of all the hopelessness he had felt in his miserable life, this was the worst. To lose that which you had loved, or at least believed yourself to have loved, was a heartbreak almost unimaginable. Yet, with all this pain, he forgave her. He could only blame himself, not the innocent girl whom he had unfairly attempted to mold into someone she was not. As much as he missed her, he was starting to consider that maybe it was never really Christine he had loved, but the idea of her. Now that he thought about it, he supposed any other lovely young woman could just have easily become his obsession. Truly, as much as he detested the thought, any girl might have fallen into his trap if they were vulnerable enough.

He hated himself for having been so blind, and so selfish. Praying on young women. He had never meant to become a monster. Christine was right, it was his heart that had truly caused him, and others, so much horror. Perhaps if he had been kinder, more forgiving, maybe others would have seen the good in him. Yet his own mother had abandoned him and no infant could deserve that! He was so torn with every thought and emotion. He almost wanted to give up. To shrivel and die so he would not have to feel so cold and confused anymore.

The ache of loneliness and guilt ate at him until he felt nauseated. He was on the run, and though he had plenty of assets, it was still difficult and exhausting to flee from the law and your home. Regardless of how dark and dank his abode had been, it was still where he felt most comfortable. He was headed Northeast and he did not know if he would ever lay eyes on Paris again. Despite his pain, he had to smirk to himself: how ironic that the darkest of souls would have made the City of Light his home. Alas, farewell. He was leaving Paris and all of her bittersweet memories behind.


	2. Ch 1: Snow Angel

**Chapter 1: Snow Angel**

A mysterious figure watched from the shadows as a sad company trudged through an oncoming blizzard. "Hurry, children," called a young woman whose threadbare coat did not look like it could survive a spring rain, much a less a winter storm. Behind her was a boy who appeared about ten and sported a torn coat and a knit cap; a girl, maybe twelve, wore a thin coat with a fur cowl and clutched her body to keep warm. The snow fell thicker and began to whirl, quickly become a white-out.

The mysterious figure, prone to choosing secrecy and solitude, fought with a difficult choice. With only moments to decide, he made his decision and stepped forward from the night. "Madame!" he called, and even his strong voice was muffled by the increasing wind. "Madame, with me! You will die if you continue on!" She squinted to see him and could barely tell his direction. A particularly strong gust blew snow into their faces and the figure made a sudden leap forward and grasped the woman's hand. "We must hurry! Hold on to one another."

He led them quickly, under the shelter of a small copse of trees, and when they came out on the other side, there was a small cottage. The wind buffeted them nearly off their feet between the trees and refuge, but at last, they reached the door and slammed it behind them. Shivering and damp, they stood in awkward silence for some time before the odd figure inquired, in a rather incredulous tone, "What were you doing out there?" He turned to start a fire in the hearth as he waited for her answer.

"I could ask you the same," the woman answered, seemingly undaunted, as she helped her children from their frosted clothing. "But I shall answer you, Monsieur, just the same." She accepted a wave of invitation to take a seat by the fire. "We thought we'd be to the next town by sundown but we got a bit lost and well, you know the rest." There was silence for a few moments then, "And you, Monsieur? Might I inquire as to why you were about in the woods on such a cold night, when you have such a warm and tidy home to retire in?" The children nestled next to their mother on either side of the canapé, their eyes wide and observant. The man could detect something more than curiosity in their faces, something more akin to wariness.

The man was rather flummoxed by the woman's vague response, not to mention her bold inquiry, but decided to allow details to emerge when she was ready. "Thinking. I prefer the cool air to clear my head." He tossed another log onto the fire.

"Quite a bit more than 'cool' out, Monsieur," the woman commented with a playful smirk. "I think you ought to be clear enough for awhile after that little adventure."

The man was intrigued by the woman's easy sense of humor and, as he quickly brewed some tea, he mused over how someone who seemed in such a desperate way could be so cheerful. When the tea was done, he removed it from the stove and arranged it next to some small cakes onto a lovely tray which he then set in front of his guests. "Well," he suggested as he took a seat across from them, "I suppose I might as well know your names."

"I am Angelique, and this is Colette and Henri," the woman answered as she motioned to each child respectively.

"I am Erik," responded the mysterious man. "You are most welcome to stay here for the night and perhaps I can help you find your way in the morning." The woman responded with gratitude, then some long moments of silence followed as they all sipped tea and the hungry children gobbled down cakes as fast as they could without appearing rude. At last, Erik rose, and bowed respectfully to the young woman. "Madame, if you will pardon me, I have some things to attend to. The room on the far end is mine, but the first door on the right has a small bed. I bid you good night, Madame," he said to the woman, then, with a nod of his head to each of the children, he added, "Mademoiselle, Garçon."

* * *

As Erik sat in his room, scribbling down signatures onto important looking parchments, his thoughts seemed to climb over one another inside his head. Having this quaint family here was having an odd effect on him. He was confused, even angry, with himself for helping them and with them for causing him distress. He told himself that was wrong, to be angry with them for what was his own problems. That poor young mother; he could only imagine what sort of events had led a woman of her means to abandon the life she had left behind, which was obvious despite her vague responses. Perhaps in time he would find out... but wait! Why should he care? He felt sorry for them, but what did it matter to him? They were leaving the next day. He would not be able to tolerate having them around any longer than necessary. He would simply sneak some money into their coat pockets and hope they fared well. That was all anyone could ask of him, was it not?


	3. Ch 2: Sausage, Eggs, & Contemplation

A/N: Thanks for any support for this story! :)

* * *

**Chapter 2: Sausage, Eggs, & Contemplation**

The next morning Erik awoke to a glorious smell wafting from the kitchen. He quirked one dark eyebrow and pushed himself up in bed. He reached over to his nightstand and opened his pocket watch. Seven in the morning and she was already up and _cooking_? Hmph. Women.

"Good morning, Monsieur!" Angelique peeped cheerfully at him as he stepped into the kitchen. "I hope you don't mind that I made a little-" her voice suddenly dropped as she saw the dour look on his face, "I-I thought it was the least I could do." She looked almost fearful, and Erik noted the same cautious expression in her eyes that he had seen in children the evening before. He thought he had better act before she burst into tears.

Erik realized he needed to be less sullen, or he would unintentionally hurt her feelings. "It smells wonderful. Thank you."

Angelique noticeably relaxed and beamed at him. "Good! I hope you'll enjoy it," she stated as she swirled the sausages around in the pan, then asked the children to set the table. They complied, and Colette inquired politely if Erik would prefer tea or milk with his breakfast. She was a lovely girl, Erik noted. Bright, shining eyes like her mother, and the same honey-colored hair. There was, however, a certain guarded look in her eyes that bothered him. What did this poor child have to be so afraid of?

"Madame, you are quite the chef!" Erik complimented Angelique after the meal.

Blushing, Angelique vehemently denied this, but thanked him just the same. "It is nothing, Monsieur! A simple meal I used to make for my husb-" Angelique stopped abruptly, a pained expression on her face. She began frantically clearing the dishes.

"Your husband?" Erik asked suddenly before he could stop himself. "My apologies!" he exclaimed hastily.

"It's quite alright," answered Angelique in a shaky voice that belied her response. "My husband is... deceased." The tone in which she said this made Erik uneasy, as if there was more to the story. More that was not _right_.

It annoyed Erik that he was so curious about this woman's life, but he could not seem to help it. Something about her just intrigued him and he felt some odd concern for her even though she had never asked for even a crust of bread. Was this... empathy? Were his prayers to become a better person being answered? After Christine, after the incident, he had been so angry. So bitter. Then, something had changed. He began to realize that he could accept her leaving him if she was truly happy. Then, after some time, he had begun to pray. He was not even sure he believed in God, but he had prayed to Whomever was out there, to help him. He was at the lowest point in his entire miserable life, and without some sort of help, he was not sure he would even survive. He prayed to be a better person, to just make the best out of what was left of his pathetic existence. So far, he had not felt like a better person. No, he still felt like one of the most disgusting people to ever walk the earth and he hated himself for his crimes. He had killed people. He had ruined lives. Sometimes he thought about turning himself in, but he knew he would never receive a fair trial. Perhaps he did not even deserve a fair trial but he was afraid. He knew it was selfish but he was not ready to die and he believed if he turned himself in that he would be executed. Surely, someone he had wronged would make certain of it.

After the awkward breakfast, Erik inquired about the next step of the family's journey. He realized his idea of practically tossing them out the door with a few francs was absurd and heartless; and somewhere deep down, he was not so sure he was ready to be alone again.


End file.
